Roadhouse
by insane songbird
Summary: What would have happened if John had died and Will Harvelle had lived? If the boys were to grow up in the Roadhouse... would things still be the same? Gen; Warnings: AU, wee!chesters, teen!chesters, mentioned character death  not Sam or Dean , angst
1. Chapter 1

Ellen Harvelle knew that there was evil in this world. She had seen enough of it and heard even more. She knew what could happen to good people in a bad world and sometimes she found herself sick of it all. But Ellen had long ago stopped letting those worries affect her the way they once had. She was a strong woman, determined in her goals and stubborn in her own right and she knew it. Her daughter often rolled her eyes over a mother who owned a bar that was frequented only by armed men and women but did not want her child to take up weapons training. But could you blame her? What mother would be overjoyed by her teenage daughter having her own knife collection?

Of course, keeping her away from all it was impossible and Ellen was aware of that, but then she could always wish differently right? The Roadhouse that was their home and workplace at once was old and a little worn down but her customers didn't mind. They were a special kind of people. The kind that slept with their eyes open and with a .44 under the pillow. The kind of people that spoke little and listened carefully. The kind that drank a little too much and always itched for a good fight. The kind that sat with their back to the walls and their faces to the door. The careful and lonely kind. The hunting kind. They were predators and Ellen knew that too well. But they were of no danger to her. Maybe, just maybe, their presence made the Roadhouse a little safer for its inhabitants. They were not the loveliest people when it came to attitude, cleanliness or friendliness, and they didn't tip as well as they ought to, but most of them kept to themselves and were thankful enough for the safe haven they were provided.

Harvelle's Roadhouse was a place where they didn't have to act the harmless nice citizens but could polish their weapons on the tables and read books one couldn't find in the usual city library.

**2002**

It was warm and sunny outside when Ellen unloaded the truck and brought an arm full of supplies through the swinging door that was the front entrance of her pub. Looking over the rim of her brown paper bags she saw the blond-headed teenager that was her little girl sitting on the counter with a couple of books strewn about her workplace and a notebook under her right hand scribbling on it with a blue pen. She looked up smiling at her mother with a boisterous "Hi mom!" on her lips. Ellen let the bags flop down behind the bar, pulling a lock of brown hair behind her ear.

"Jo, did you manage to coax Sam into helping you with your homework again?" Ellen raised an eyebrow at the young man who had occupied the seat next to her daughter but had jumped up at seeing Ellen enter the room and already made his way through the door to fetch more of her shopping from the truck.

Jo flashed her mother a bright smile. "He offered, mom…."

The door swung open again and the tall young man came in balancing double the amount of bags Ellen had taken in her first run in his long arms. "Sam, you don't have to carry like a mule… you could always make two trips." Sam had brought everything that she had left in the truck . He always did it that way and Ellen expected that one day the pile in his arms would slide and bury him beneath it.

He sat the assortment of bags and boxes down and started sorting them into the cupboards unasked. "Why fix it if it ain't broken?" He grinned at her and she rolled her eyes at the boy. He had offered to do the supply run for her or at least tag along to help her with the carrying but Ellen wouldn't hear any of it. He had schoolwork to do and she would be damned if he would fall behind because he helped her with things she could handle perfectly on her own. Not that Sam was anywhere close to falling behind in school. He was an excellent student and always finished his tasks early. He also rose to the challenge of making sure that Jo's homework was not just done but done properly. Ellen loved him for that. Sam always brushed off her thanks, saying that it kept him tuned on the basics and saved him repeating things for himself.  
Together they shelved the supplies in no time and Ellen started setting up everything in the pub for the usual business that would begin in a few hours when the evening would roll about and the customers would crawl out of their dens to go on the nightly hunt.

Ellen was filling little bowls with pretzels and peanuts as she heard the well-known growl of a car's engine outside. She smiled to herself, knowing that homework would be forgotten for the next hour. The muffled bang of a car door being opened and closed was followed by the crunching of boots on gravel. She wouldn't admit it but she had missed that sound. It had been a few weeks.

Jo slapped her books shut and jumped from her stool expectantly. The door was pushed open and Ellen smiled at the young man entered. He only had time to let his duffel bag fall to the floor before he was jumped by a hundred pounds of excited little blond girl. Jo squealed and hugged him fiercely. "Dean!" Her feet were off the ground and he hugged her back, carrying her towards the counter where Sam had come out from behind the bar to clap a large hand on his back and hug him as well – never minding that Jo was still hanging from Dean's left side.  
The new arrival plunked the girl down on the counter and grinned at them. "Looks like you missed me." He flung an arm over the taller boy's shoulders, stretching himself to his full height.

Sam looked at him with a sly grin on his face.

"You were gone for a whole month, bro." His look was slightly accusing but far from harsh.

"You counted? I'm flattered." Dean grinned, shrugging off his jacket with a slight grunt and throwing it over a chair.

Ellen frowned. She put down the bag of pretzels she was holding and walked towards the newest occupant of the Roadhouse. Slapping his back in greeting, she asked "How are you, Dean?"

The man flinched a little under the harsh touch and Ellen saw a purple and green bruise shining on his temple, half hidden under the line of short brown hair.

"Better if you would stop hitting me like a race horse." He shot her a stern look and she nodded. Jo's expression had gone from excited to worried and she combed back his hair with her fingers, looking at the bruise. Ellen knew that she felt guilty for jumping him unceremoniously before.

"Do you want ice for that?" Not waiting for an answer, the girl hopped off the counter and quickly made her way behind the bar, opening the freezer and rolling ice cubes into a bar towel. She came back trying to push the improvised cold pack against Dean's face but he snatched it from her grip, mumbling his thanks.

Sam was silent and just watched Dean holding the cold pack against his temple probably more to appease Jo than to lessen any swelling or pain because Ellen knew that it was a little late for that. The taller boy had a slight frown on his face and followed Dean with his gaze as he walked back to the door to pick up his bag.

"Everything alright?" He finally asked with a neutral look his eyes never leaving Dean's back.

The other turned around again with a slight smirk. "I'm fine, Sam. It's just a bruise."

Sam nodded. "D'you get them?"

"Every last one of them." The smirk grew into a satisfied grin and Ellen saw the glint in Dean's green eyes. She knew that look. She had seen it in his face before as well as in her husband's and the boys' father's. It was the excitement of a good hunt and she admired him for being such a natural at the same time as her heart grew heavy. She knew he was lost to the normal world. There was no turning back after reaching this level. He would always be a hunter in his heart. He would live and die as one… and Ellen knew that they died easily. It had happened to her husband last year and to many others before: one of them John Winchester, the boys' father. It was how their story had begun. Their life together, so many years ago.

** 1991 **

William Anthony Harvelle hadn't been a hunter for just a day… or a year. He was good at what he did and he was good at doing it alone. That's why his wife was not happy with him deciding to team up with a "colleague." Not that Ellen didn't like the man. John Winchester was a good hunter, his reputation was flawless and his skills were well known. He had been hunting for years himself, maybe not decades, but what time didn't teach John he learned by stubbornness. Ellen thought he was a good hunter. But that was the problem: good hunters were bad team players and she didn't want her husband to be in more danger than he usually managed to land himself in by having a partner. One man made mistakes. Two men made double as many mistakes. It was dangerous to rely on someone to have your back when a lapse would get you dead in no time. No second chances, no do-overs. Death was final and it was what Ellen feared most for her little family. She could live with pain, and being apart, and injuries but how was she supposed to cope with a dead husband? There was no healing death.

She watched wearily as her husband packed his weapons into a bag and stood silently as he walked to his little daughter to say goodbye to her where she sat on the floor playing with a doll he had given her a while back. Ellen used the moment she had to cross the space between her and John. She looked at him for a long while, eyes hard. The man stopped his own preparations, looking up. He met her gaze straight on.

"You don't want him to go with me." It wasn't a question and Ellen didn't see the need of answering. He nodded slowly. "I will look after him, Ellen. I'll do anything so he can come back to you."

Ellen shook her head slowly. "Most of you hunters don't have anything to lose." Then she looked at her husband talking softly to the little blond girl that giggled at his words, a broad smile showing the missing teeth in her child's mouth. "He has. She has. We have." She gave John another stern glance and he nodded his face solemn.

"I understand that, Ellen…."

"No. I don't think you do." How could he understand how she felt about this?  
"I got two kids myself, you know?" He gave her a wry smile and her glance softened slightly. She hadn't known. She had met John only a few times and he wasn't the talkative type. "Two boys. Sam's just two years older than Jo. Dean takes care of him a lot while I'm away but he's just a kid himself. Not big enough to reach the top shelf."

Ellen frowned. She knew that John's wife was dead, William had told her that much. She wondered where those children were when John was on his endless hunts. "Who looks after them?"

"I do as often as I can. When I'm away on short trips the older one, Dean, can take care of them. Right now they are with a friend. A priest. Good man." She looked in his face for a long time trying to see what kind of a man John Winchester was. He had children too young to be left alone by the standards of normal society but he spent his time hunting what goes bump in the dark and left them to care for themselves. She couldn't do that. But then she didn't have to. He did. "I don't want my kids to become orphans and I certainly don't want your kid to become one. We'll be careful." His smile was tired but solemn and she nodded slowly.

William came over carrying Jo in his arms. He passed her to Ellen with one last kiss on the forehead and grabbed his back. He kissed his wife goodbye before nodding to John. The two men left the Roadhouse carrying bags of guns and ammunition, knives and salt.

Ellen hoped John Winchester was a man of his word. She hoped this for him and for herself.

It was the middle of the night when Ellen heard the engine of a car outside her bar. It was late and there were only a handful of patrons left scattered around the tables in the dim light. It wasn't unusual for her guests to come at the most unholy hours. Hunting was a night-time activity whether you were an animalistic predator or a human one.

As the door swung open Ellen couldn't help the smile that spread over her face. Her husband stood in the door, face grim but very much alive and she hurried over to him, hugging him close as soon as he was in reach. She had been worried sick as every time he left although she'd never admit to it.

After a few long seconds she pulled away. William's shoulders were hard as rock from tension and she looked at him with suspicion in her eyes. Something was wrong. He had a black eye, nothing unusual in his line of work, but combined with the grim set of his jaw and the darkened look in his eyes it didn't tell of happy things. "What's wrong? Did anything go badly?"

She was afraid of the answer, but apart of her mind told her that whatever it was, it didn't matter because her husband was home and he was alive. William looked at the floor and pulled his wife out the door again, away from the small crowd of customers and into the night's cool night air. It was chilly outside, but the shudder that went down Ellen's spine was not caused by the cold.

"It didn't go as planned." William sat down on the steps and put his head in his hands. "John's dead."

For a moment everything was silent. Ellen didn't even dare breathe. Then she swallowed, trying to gather her voice again. She couldn't let this paralyze her. She had lost friends before. The only thing that was different now was that William had been there. He might have died as well. "What happened?"

"We changed places. The plan was that I would be bait and John would be backup. But I didn't feel comfortable with it. I… I don't know why. The plan was flawless but I…. John said he'd trust me to have his back but I… I think I fucked up. Got anxious and exposed him. He died before I could do anything." William ran his hands through his hair before rubbing his palms over his face.

For a moment Ellen thought she was a terrible person when the only thought she could find in herself was that she was glad John was dead and not William. Her husband was alive and she was happy about that but her head screamed at her how she could be such a heartless bitch. How could she be so selfish? John Winchester was dead. She looked at her husband and took a deep breath. No, she wasn't glad that John was dead but nobody could hold it against her that she was relieved her husband was back home safely, thanks to John Winchester. He had kept his promise…. Her breath hitched as she remembered their goodbyes. He had kept his promise to her but not to himself.

She sunk down next to her husband and put her arm around his broad back. "My god… what about his kids?"

He raised his head eyes looking at her slightly confused. "What?"

"His sons… John said he had two sons, that his youngest is only a bit older than Jo. They are alone now." She didn't dare look at her husband. She didn't dare look at herself. The thought of those two boys she had never met not even knowing what had happened to their father cut deep in her soul. "They are with a priest… we need to tell them." She stood, not sure what to do with herself. The only thing she knew for sure was that she find the priest and the sons of John Winchester. She wouldn't leave the kids wondering where their dad was. There had to be a way she could help. She had to try. William stood as well and crossed the small gravel path to his car, opening the trunk and looking through the bags. She followed him and saw him pull out a brown leather book that looked well-used and worn. He opened it and started leafing through it for a moment.

William stabbed a page with his index finger few minutes later. "Pastor Jim. There's a phone number there."

When Ellen walked into the church a shudder ran down her spine. She was not a religious person but the debt she owed John Winchester and his sons made her conscience weigh a ton that morning. She knew that it wasn't really her fault that John was dead. But the fact that she had made him look after her husband more than he did after himself made her feel obliged to the man in more ways than she could was part of the reason she was here. But not all of it. They had called Pastor Jim the same night and he had taken the message with a shock that was soon swept aside by sad but realistic stoicism. He was worried about what would happen to the boys; he didn't have the capacity to look after them on a permanent basis and there was no blood relative left to give them to. The last one, an uncle from the mother's side, seemed to have passed away only months ago. He would try his utmost to have them put with a nice foster family, but he worried about the boys being able to fit into a new family, especially the older one, Dean. Ellen knew what a life of hunting, of traveling like a fugitive on the run could make of a grown man. She could only imagine what it did to a child.

Ellen ended the call feeling heartsick. She knew that Jim would do his best but she couldn't bear the thought of those kids being thrown into the foster system. She couldn't even imagine what she'd think if her daughter were to end up there. It was impossible. So she talked to William and he agreed. She knew he felt as indebted to John Winchester as she did, maybe even more so, and they agreed on taking the kids in. They had the room and Jo wouldn't be as isolated anymore.

Jim had been slightly baffled by their offer but he was delighted to tell the boys. There was only one more obstacle to overcome. Getting the Winchester boys to agree to their stay with the Harvelles.

Ellen walked the middle aisle of the church towards the altar looking around for a man who she might identify as the priest. "Hello?"

A squeak made her jump a little and as she turned to the noise she saw a man with short hair and the dark robes of a priest leave the confessional. He walked over with a friendly smile that seamed slightly strained on the edges. "Hello."

"Are you Pastor Jim?" As the man nodded she held out her hand on greeting. "My name is Ellen Harvelle. We spoke on the phone."

The priest's face lightened up with recognition and he shook her hand firmly. "I am glad you came. Your offer nearly seemed too good to be true, to be honest."

She gave him a tired smile of her own. "It still stands." She saw his shoulders lose some of their tension as he showed her the way through a door at the side of the altar-space that led into the rooms of the church not opened for the usual visitors.

"I hope you don't expect too much of the boys. They are good kids and they don't make a lot of extra work. They keep pretty much to themselves. Sam is pretty curious about everything… well, what should one expect from an eight year old? Dean is a little harder to crack but he can take care of himself and doesn't need to be babysat." Ellen smiled. This sounded like an advertisement for the puppies of the dog shelter: 'likes other dogs, good with children, clean, lively but not loud.'

"Did you tell them I was coming?"

"Yes. Sam is still trying to understand the situation but Dean knows what you are offering. He's the one you have to get through to." Ellen nodded. As far as she knew Dean was twelve, a difficult age for any normal teenager… but she knew him to be anything but normal.  
They entered a room that looked like a small living room. Ellen saw a boy – judging by the age it would be Sam – sitting on the floor in front of a small coffee table, drawing on a piece of yellow paper. The boy looked up and Ellen saw brown eyes looking at her expectantly. "Hi," the boy said and looked at her a little longer before he let his gaze fall onto the paper again.

"Hi." Ellen walked over to him and sat down on the couch behind him. "What are you drawing?" She looked at the paper. The upper half of the page was still yellow and he had drawn a sun and stars. The lower half showed two stick figures standing next to a church. It would have looked normal if the church and the stick figures hadn't been surrounded by black crayon coloring that spread over the lower half of the page. There was a taller figure standing in the church's doorway and another one at the far left end of the page. "Who are the people?"

The boy put down the pen he had held and looked at her for a moment. The he pointed to the two small figures. "That's me and that's Dean."

"Your brother?" The boy nodded and Ellen pointed to the person at the church. "Who's that?"

In answer the kid pointed at the priest standing silently next to the doorway. "And who's that?" She asked as she pointed at the last person on the picture.

"My dad." The boy picked up a dark crayon and started drawing dark shadows around the dad-stick-person.

Before Ellen couldn't ask more, a door at the side of the room opened and an older boy with short light brown hair walked in carrying a plate and a glass of what looked like orange juice. He hesitated for a second upon seeing Ellen on the couch, but then walked to the coffee table and put down the plate and glass.

"C'mon Sam, it's lunch time." As the younger boy scooted over to the plate and glass and picked up the sandwich that was offered to him, the older boy – presumably Dean – started cleaning away the crayons and paper.

"Don't you have lunch as well?" Sam asked, in the same child-like manner Ellen heard from her daughter.

Dean shrugged. "I'm not hungry. Now eat your lunch." Ellen let him clean away Sam's things, set his own pace of the conversation. After he had everything tucked away in a bag next to the couch, he stood next to his munching brother and looked at Ellen for a long time. "You're Ellen, right? Jim said you were coming to get us."

Ellen was slightly surprised by the bluntness of the kid but nodded with a friendly smile offering him her hand. "Yes, I am Ellen. You must be Dean?" He eyed her hand suspiciously for a moment but shook it all the same.

"Why?" His gaze was as intimidating as any twelve year old's could ever get and Ellen felt like she was facing a child inquisitor.

"Why what, Dean?"

"Why do you want us?" Dean's hand landed on his brother's shoulder and Ellen knew what the priest had meant. He was more then just a big brother to the younger boy. He was the responsible one. The one who decided what was to be done because he knew that no one else could take that responsibility from him.

"Because we - that's me and my husband - we were friends of your father's."

Dean's eyes narrowed slightly. "Jim was friends with my dad, too, and so was Caleb. They don't want us and I don't know you."

Ellen felt a deep sadness grip her at Dean's clinical analysis of their loneliness. "Well, Jim and Caleb are not used to having children around and they are alone. Me and William, we are two people and we already have a daughter, Jo, so we are used to taking care of children. We don't think your dad would have wanted you to have to go into the foster system."

Sam had finished his sandwich by then and looked up excitedly. "You know my dad? Can you tell him to come back? Because I don't want him to stay away…." Big brown eyes looked at Ellen and nearly broke her heart.

She saw Dean take a deep breath his eyes half closed as though to gather his strength. "She can't, Sam. Dad won't come back."

"Why not?"

"Because he's dead. People don't come back when they are dead. He's with mom now." Dean's voice was calm and silent, but strained. It seemed to take all of Dean's strength not to yell at his little brother for his stupidity.

"Why would he want to be with mom instead of us? Why can't we be with mom?" Ellen saw tears at the edge of Sam's eyes as Dean turned and bent down to his little brother.

He put his hands on the boys shoulder and squeezed. "Because we are alive, Sam. Dad would want us to go on, you know that."

"But I don't wanna be alone."

"You're not alone. I'm here. I'm always here, you know that. I'll take care of you."

Sam nodded and wiped at his eyes with his child's hands. Ellen was surprised to see Dean turn again. "Are you a hunter? Like my dad?"

She looked at him for a moment not knowing what to say. She had expected them to know some of it. But Dean seemed to know exactly what John had been doing, what he had fought. "No I'm not, but my husband is."

Dean nodded and his eyes fell to the table while he seemed to think things over.

"Alright." He swallowed once, his voice sounding unbelievably rough for a child.

"We don't wanna be in foster care." His eyes met hers again. They looked more weary than any kid's eyes ever should. "We're coming with you."


	2. Chapter 2

Ellen frowned while she filled the shelves with what she had bought during her supply run. The Winchester boys had been with her family for about two weeks now. As Pastor Jim had said, they were quiet and kept to themselves. Dean cared for Sam, making Ellen's presence as good as unnecessary because he really didn't need to be babysat at all. In fact it had taken Ellen only a few days to be confident about leaving him to look after Sam and Jo. He was ferocious when it came to the kids' well-being on his watch and Ellen knew that there was no harm to come to them as long as the twelve-year old was their sitter. She had also told him that he didn't have to continue making lunch for Sam but instead of letting her do it, Dean had started to make lunch for Jo as well.

Despite the fact that the boys were easy to look after, Ellen sometimes thought that if it weren't for Jo, it would never work. Dean was silent and broody. He didn't like to talk to her or William a lot, didn't care to share anything. But he was like a different person around their daughter. She was soon included in Dean's family circle, probably because she wouldn't tolerate anything less from the moment the boys entered the Roadhouse. Jo demanded to be played with and included and Sam did so without hesitation, giving Dean no possible chance of keeping her out of the loop. Ellen loved her daughter for that.

The kids – now they were actually her kids, all three of them – had just finished their lunch and Dean was taking away the empty plates to the small kitchen that was just through a back door. When he re-emerged he stood next to Sam and Jo for a while watching them play before he came over and stood in front of Ellen. She looked at him with a smile. "Hi, Dean."

"Do you want help?"

Her eyebrows rose a little at that. Dean rarely initiated conversation and she was pleased that he seemed more comfortable with her now. "Wouldn't you rather play with Sam and Jo?"

"Their game is stupid." He grabbed a few boxes of crackers. "Where do these go?" Ellen pointed at the cupboard and Dean started sorting the supplies learning the order of things in the shelves and cupboards one at a time. Ellen tried to hide a smile. This could work after all.

+++

The first time Ellen saw that Dean was indeed John Winchester's son was when William was cleaning his guns on one of the corner tables of the Roadhouse. The kids were playing in the backroom that was their living room as Dean came out rolling his eyes. "What is it?" Ellen couldn't help but smirk at the expression on the boy's face.

"They are such babies."

"Well… Jo is only half as old as you are, Dean. Of course she's still a baby in your eyes."

He shrugged, turning to her. She was sitting on a stool at the counter reading a book. After Jo was born, Ellen rarely found time to read, but paradoxically, she had more opportunities now since the number of children had tripled. Now that Jo had someone else to play with - and Sam really didn't mind that job – she didn't demand as much of Ellen's time. Plus, Dean was a pretty professional sitter, although he was only twelve. The boys didn't make much extra work. Not as much as their presence saved her anyway. The only difference was cooking for two more and that was the least of Ellen's worries. Sam and Dean ate everything. From what Sam had told her they could live on cereal and SpaghettiOs.

It was still hours before the first customers would arrive and there little left to do to prepare. Dean knew that as well and left Ellen to her book, walking over to William with a strong stride. Her husband looked up from the shotgun he was cleaning with raised eyebrows.

"Want help?"

Ellen didn't think it a good idea to have guns around a kid, but the reality that the Roadhouse probably held more weapons on any night than the annual meeting of the joined NRA-clubs of Texas suggested it was better to have the kid know how to handle weapons safely than not have him handle them at all.

"D'you ever hold a gun?" Her husband looked at the boy inquisitively.

"My dad always gave me a Winchester rifle and a 9mm when he left."

William's eyebrows rose one story on their way to his scalp. "You know how to clean them then?"  
Dean nodded taking a small sidearm from the table and started unloading the clip and chamber before dismantling it for cleaning. Ellen felt her heart sink. She should be glad that Dean knew how to safely handle a firearm, but the fact that he was not yet thirteen and did so perfectly was a horrible thought all the same.

The boy sat down next to her husband and they spent the next half an hour cleaning and oiling everything from a small revolver to a shotgun. When they were done William smiled at the boy clapping him on the shoulders. "You know how to shoot?"

Dean nodded. That day he shot down two dozen targets from different distances and didn't miss one single shot. Ellen saw him smiling as they stored away the guns and for the first time he told them something about himself. He told them he had been taken shooting by his dad for the first time when he was about six. He hadn't missed. His dad had been proud.

Ellen could only think that this was the age Jo was now. She wouldn't learn shooting. Not now and not in the next ten years if you asked Ellen. Sixteen. That was the legal age kids were allowed to drive. Wasn't that early enough?

**1996**

Ellen got out of the car and walked up the stairs of the school's main building. She had gotten the call about an hour ago and the secretary on the phone didn't specify what was the matter – but assured her that her kids were not dying right now. So Ellen wasn't even sure which of the three kids this was about seeing that they lived in a rural area where all schools were hosted in the adjoining buildings of the same complex but with separate campuses. Ellen had kids in 5th, 7th and 11th grade. She was fluctuating between worry and annoyance as she opened the front door and walked towards the principal's office. She knew that the three didn't exactly win the prize for being everyone's favorites. Dean tended to be bold when he spoke to the other kids and otherwise didn't bloom when it came to social activities. He was far from being a bully, but it wouldn't be the first time that he actually kicked a bully's ass for getting up in his face or even worse Sam's or Jo's. It was what she prepared herself for mentally. When the kid had come to them he hadn't been inexperienced in hand-to-hand fighting (just as he hadn't been an empty page when it came to firearms) and he hadn't let a chance go by to learn more and practice with her husband. He could probably beat up every single member of the wrestling and boxing teams of his school. But he didn't care to join any team sports. None of her kids did. They were just not the socializing kind.

Sam was a good student and his teachers thought highly of him, saying he was very attentive and clever. But he still was kind of the oddball in school. A tall, scrawny kid that lived with a family that wasn't his own, a big brother who happened to get into trouble more than average and a very tight relationship with a girl that wasn't his sister but was treated like one. He was a nerd, spending his time studying even though he had the build of a future basketball player. Sam didn't like to talk about himself, especially his past and his family (neither did Dean but he had a way of intimidating people out of asking him anything), and that made the other kids kind of suspicious, fueling a lot of gossip.

Jo was like Dean in many aspects. She was a pretty girl but she tended to be bold (some said even rude) and didn't see the need to integrate too much. She did have friends but she still preferred her as-good-as-brothers when it came down to the choosing who to spend time with. Sam was her best friend, while Dean was as much of a big brother to her as any big brother could ever be.

Ellen knew why her kids didn't win any prizes as most beloved students. They were different. They knew a lot more than the other kids and that made them careful. One doesn't brag about monsters, ghosts, demons, guns, knifes and other usual hunter business in front of anyone outside of that world, much less their classmates. They would never bring kids home because at home there was always the possibility of a 6'4'' guy with a shotgun and a machete would bounce through the door and order a shot of whiskey and a box of shotgun shells to go. Try explaining that to the parents' board!

Pastor Jim had seen to it that within a year the Harvelles became the Winchester boys' legal guardians. With that Ellen had stopped thinking of 'their daughter' and 'the boys' but started taking them all as 'her kids'. Now she saw her kids on the chairs in front of the principal's office. Dean's face was solemn, his jaw set and his mouth a straight line while he balanced a guilty-looking Jo on his knees. She was eleven and could very well sit on her own chair but in times of crisis she would still end up on one lap or the other. It was her way of supporting the boys. Her way of being there. Sam sat next to his brother holding a cold pack to his lip while pulling absentmindedly at the laces of Jo's shoes. Her legs were flung over his lap and Ellen knew that this was not just one of them getting in trouble but a huge family crisis awaiting her.

As she came closer she saw that Sam's cold pack was for a split lip and a big purple bruise on his chin. She looked at him for a moment before letting her gaze fall on the older boy next to him. Dean's left cheek was red, growing blue fast, and his brow was crusted with blood from a small gash there. "What the hell? Would any of you care to explain this to me?" She put her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised in an absolutely-not-amused look and saw Sam and Jo shrink away a little. Dean didn't flinch, didn't look up. She knew she could intimidate him, he just didn't show it.  
"Dean?" He was the oldest. It was their understanding that he was responsible for keeping the others out of trouble while in school even if he couldn't do so himself. Until today, he had managed it. There had been a couple of incidents where Dean had taken the punishment for one of the others due to stepping in before they could catch the trouble themselves. The teachers didn't really like it when a 17 year old boy handled the problems of an eleven year old girl… they thought it overkill and Ellen agreed to a certain degree. But once or twice she was glad he was there to catch the punches.

Dean looked at her and his eyes made it clear that he was not going to answer, didn't think he had to answer and that he was not sorry. This was a first. Dean always stood to what he did but he had never looked at her like this. There was hurt in the green eyes of the boy that had nothing to do with the pain of his bruises; that hurt was accompanied with rage and something that ranged between grief and resentment. Whatever had happened it was severe, that much was sure. Dean could roll with the punches. He had kept it together when his father had died, only giving in to tears when the thought nobody would hear him cry. Dean only ever snapped when it came to family. She knew this had to be about family as well.

"Sam?" She didn't push Dean any further instead she turned to look at his younger brother. The boy sighed slowly shaking his head sending shaggy brown hair bouncing around his head before looking up at her. He looked angry. More so then Dean and there was no regret in his face either, only the understanding that there would be a punishment and he'd take it without argument. "They deserved it. More even."

She nodded acknowledging their remorselessness. "Who deserved it and for what?"

Jo jumped off Dean's knees then standing in front of Ellen with the same guilty look on her face she had worn before. "I told Sam what they said about their dad. I didn't know it was going to make him so mad. I'm sorry, mom. But they were being mean and they lied!"

Ellen nodded again waiting for further explanations. She was slightly irritated as Sam sent Jo to go wash her hands in the next bathroom and the girl only shot him a look that said 'I know you just want to talk without me listening' but leaving none the less. As she was gone Ellen crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows in a command to spill it now or be ready to live with the consequences.

Sam and Dean shared a long look and the younger boy started to speak through his teeth clenching his jaw in anger. "Jo came and told me that some guys from the football team were saying that our Dad isn't dead…."

Ellen frowned. "Alright."

She watched as Sam took a deep breath before speaking further, his voice only slightly above a whisper strained with emotion. "I told Dean and we went to ask them what the deal was…. I mean I got those strange looks over the last week from several people and I kinda figured that'd be related." He paused again and Ellen's patience was close to running out. "They told everyone that dad wasn't dead but in prison because he was some kind of an addict who was violent and abusive. Half the school thinks we are strange because our dad sexually molested us." He hardly got out the last sentence and Ellen felt the dread at what a lie like that would do to the already isolated kids. Sam was taking deep breaths to get back the control of his feelings. She saw tears glisten in his eyes. The boys loved their dad, idealized him to the point of hero-worship and hearing things like that about him hurt the parts of their hearts that were still the same little boys who just wanted their dad to be there and be proud of them.

"I jumped the asshole who dared saying that to my face." Sam looked at her challenging her to judge him for this behavior. "He laughed at me while saying it." Sam's voice was but a growl by now. "His friends wanted to help him but they couldn't handle Dean."

Ellen felt her eyes grow wide. "I understand your anger… but how seriously did you hurt them?"  
She got rather angry as Dean snorted out a sound of disgust. "They got a few black eyes and the shock of a lifetime, but no bones were broken and they will all be fit again in a week's time." Ellen felt herself letting out a breath of relief she hadn't noticed she held. She knew that Dean – and probably Sam as well by now – could probably have killed them with his bare hands. He knew exactly how to break someone's wrist with one smooth movement and that was just the taster. Her boys might have been enraged but they had kept some control and she thanked them for it.

"But the principle said we had 'ganged up' on the guy. That's bullshit."

Ellen closed her eyes feeling a headache spread between her temples… this was going to be one more hard fight. Maybe she should look into different schools in the vicinity. She knew if one of them had to go then the others would go too, no discussions there. It was the pack's rules.

**1997**

Ellen poured a jug of lemonade into glasses and called for her daughter. After a minute of clattering and bumping sounds from the backroom the door swung open and the blond head of her girl appeared, looking at her expectantly. Ellen didn't even want to know what had caused the sounds of destruction.  
"Go get the boys. Lunch is ready." Jo nodded enthusiastically. A little too enthusiastically. "And don't even think of getting up on that roof!" Her suspicions were proved correct as she saw her kid's smile falter.

"But mom! Sam and Dean are on the roof." Her pout might work with the boys from school – hell, a sweet little blond girl like Jo didn't even have to blink for it to work with the boys from school. Ellen was just glad that the boys were rather intimidated by her 'big brothers' and didn't dare anything – but Ellen found herself only slightly amused that she would even try.

"Sam and Dean are fixing the roof and they are allowed up there because they are older than you and promised to be careful." Actually Dean was fixing the roof and Sam was handing him the tools and materials while chatting about God and his brother. Though the teachers might consider Ellen's little hoard as too quiet, around family at least Sam did talk a lot and Jo didn't fall much short of him in that department. Only Dean didn't talk at a hundred miles per hour, but he did have a mouth on him and a set of witty retorts if the mood struck.

"But Sam is only two years older then I am!"

"Two years are still two years, Jo. Usually I wouldn't let Sam up there either but your dad is not gonna be back for at least another week and the roof needs to be fixed. With Dean leaving soon I'd rather have it done today than tomorrow." She saw Jo's face fall a little. Her daughter was anything but happy about the fact that Dean had planned to do a little road trip after graduation. The official graduation ceremony was due tomorrow and then Dean could leave whenever he saw fit.  
Not that he wouldn't come back eventually but Jo got all sour and moody every time he left, even if it was just for a weekend to help William out with a job. Ellen had objected to that in the beginning but Dean's sixteenth birthday coincided with a couple of demonic possessions that for more than one hunter at the same time and though Dean was only just a child in the eyes of the law, he was the most trustworthy option they had had. Ellen knew that the kid was good in the business and careful. Now that he was eighteen and had finished high school, Ellen tried to make him consider going to college but Dean shrugged off that idea with a laugh. She knew that he had a variety reasons for not considering it. Dean would not get a full ride with his grades – not that they were all that bad but he was far from a straight-A student – and he had a distinct lack of extracurricular activities to report on any college application. She tried to explain to the kid that they could make it work but he didn't see the need to try, considering that he didn't expect to live the normal white picket-fence life anyway.

Dean had always enjoyed hunting and all the skills needed for it. Jo sometimes frowned upon him training for things like bow hunting but she still made him show her how to handle a bow nonetheless. The girl had hoped that Dean would consider staying at the Roadhouse after graduation, but waiting tables didn't have the same attraction as hunting evil. Of course Dean did wait tables when he was there but it wasn't his life's goal.

The idea of the road trip had been growing ever since his eighteenth birthday. They had had a little party in the Roadhouse for just the family and a few friends. Pastor Jim had been there as well as Caleb and an old friend of John Winchester's who had not been a stranger to the Harvelles either: Bobby Singer. The elder man had connections in the hunters' realm that could not be matched by anyone – the Harvelles themselves included which said something because no one had as many hunters traveling through as them – but he had always had a weak spot for then Winchester boys. 'Family don't end with blood' was the only explanation he cared to give for it and that was how his birthday present to Dean had the boy's breath hitch.

Bobby owned a dump that called itself a garage but was mainly a front for his various hunting activities. Still he had a dozen or more old car wrecks that wouldn't drive but still had some good parts in them. Bobby had brought a Polaroid picture of a dusty black Chevy, an Impala as he explained to them, and Ellen saw Sam's and Dean's eyes widen as they looked at the picture. "Ain't the same car but it's exactly the same model as your dad's ride," Bobby said and Ellen felt a small smile crack her lips. "It doesn't run yet but you can have it if you want. I'd help you fix it up until it's purring like a kitten. Whaddaya say, boy?"

Of course Dean had said yes and had spent most of his spring holidays at Bobby's smoothing out dents and rebuilding the Impala's engine. They were nearly done and from what Dean had told Ellen, after only one more week of work the car should be up and running like the day it had left the factory. When it did Dean would take his baby on the road and that's where the road trip idea had originated. What he would do while cruising from state to state was a completely different question. But Ellen had a fairly good guess.

**2000**

Ellen felt anxious but she wouldn't show it. Of course her daughter would have noticed by now but she'd been cranky and sour-mooded for days and Jo stayed out of her way whenever she was like that. She wiped the counter with more ferocity than necessary and had to keep herself from trying to wash the glasses that stood in the sink knowing that she'd probably end up breaking them. She started humming under her breath trying to keep herself from screaming in frustration. She couldn't take it much longer. William had been gone for two weeks now. He had left on the 26th of December right after Christmas and the last call she had received was on New Year's morning. That meant over a week without a call. He hardly ever went that long without giving them news. It wasn't unheard of but it hadn't happened in years. Not since the cell phone found its way into their household. Ellen was torn between the panicking fear that screamed in the back of her head and the annoyed little voice that told her she was overreacting.

Half an hour and three broken glasses later Ellen was rinsing blood off her hand from the cut she had caught in the shards. She watched it thinning out in the transparent water, growing lighter in shade and disappearing down the drain. That's when she made the decision that there had been enough blood spilled to justify her fears and as soon as she had bandaged the wound, she picked up the phone dialing a number she knew by heart. She had dialed it a lot, especially that first summer, but the calls became less frequent as life claimed their attention and Sam's and Jo's school had started again. She stared at the postcards that were tucked on the board behind the bar next to a few family photos as she listened to the ring on the other end of the line.

A minute and about fifteen rings later there was a click as she was connected to silence on the other end, no greeting. "Dean? It's me, I need your help."


	3. Chapter 3

It was another four days before there was the sound of a car on the gravel yard outside the Roadhouse outside their usual working hours. Jo jumped off her seat by the counter forgetting about her lunch, hurrying towards the door, closely followed by a frowning Sam. Ellen sat down the bar towel she'd used to dry off the freshly washed dishes and walked after the teenagers to the front door.

"Dean." Jo's words were but a whisper as she saw the black Chevy that halted in front of their home. As the door opened and the broad shoulders and short brown hair of the young man appeared out of the driver's seat, her voice rose into a squealing shout "Dean!"

The blond girl ran towards him skidding to a halt only two feet from him. Dean's sunglasses came askew as she slapped him across the cheek. It wasn't hard but she made her point. "Dean Winchester, don't you dare ever leave us alone again for two and a half fucking years!" Her index finger stabbed his chest with every word. Ellen would have reprimanded her for the language she used but thought she could let it slide this once. After giving him another stern look the girl jumped forwards and hugged the young man like she would never let him go again. That was probably what she actually wanted to do all along.

Sam stood at the side looking at his brother for a long while before stepping up himself and giving him a quick if not slightly chilly hug. He was pissed off by how long Dean's "road trip" had taken and Ellen knew that. She was tense. She had called Dean to look into where William was. Now four days later he stood in her front yard without her husband. It made her insides coil thinking of the implications.

Dean stepped forward, putting a hand on Jo's shoulder and pulling off his sunglasses. His eyes were dark and sunken, with heavy bags beneath them, and red-rimmed. He looked at Ellen for a long moment before swallowing once and saying the first words since his arrival. She knew he did not bring good news and didn't know if she really wanted to hear what he was about to say. "I drove through the whole night. I just came from the police office in Greensboro..." He paused taking a deep breath. Ellen felt her hands shaking. Greenboro, North Carolina. Over twenty hours drive from here. William was in North Carolina as far as she knew. She took three steps toward the young man who had become her son over the years. Her mind begged him to say that he had a drink with her husband, that he had lost his cell but was already on his way home. "I'm sorry."

Ellen heard a sob leaving her throat. She closed her eyes. Tears welling up and out beneath her lashes and she felt herself being hugged tight by muscled arms.

"What?" It was Sam's voice carrying dread.

She could feel Dean hug her just a bit tighter, his chin which had rested on her hair lifting. "William is dead. I'm sorry."

There was a strangled cry from the girl standing right next to them and one arm left Ellen's back to pull the teenaged girl close as well. Ellen clung to her daughter as hard as she could, forcing down the tears that blurred her vision and petting the blond hair of her child while soothing the sobs that were muffled against her shoulder.

"How do you know? What happened?" Ellen could hear choked tears in the younger brother's voice and she looked up, seeing him ball his fists at his.

Dean let go of them and took a step towards his brother, posture weary and tired. "I saw him. He's dead. I…." He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I claimed the body. It's being transferred here for a proper burial. He should have a proper burial." Ellen knew why Dean wanted to emphasize that. Their mother hadn't had a burial; there was nothing left. Their dad was never buried the traditional way either. There were no funerals, no saying good bye, no closure.

Sam rubbed his hands over his face his voice growing angrier with every word. "Right. Let me guess… you killed whatever did it?"

"Yes."

Sam nodded the muscles of his jaw working vividly. "And you didn't think we'd want to hear about it FIRST?"

Dean rubbed his eyes shrugging. "I had to be fast or it would have been gone and I thought you'd rather hear it from me face to face." Ellen saw Sam's rage grow along with Dean's annoyance. When Dean grew defensive it was never a good thing.

"Yeah, because you showed your face so much in the last years. You didn't even get here for Christmas! You only sent those fucking postcards and a present or two for our birthdays… and then you think we'd need you to come here for THIS?" Sam was close to shouting and Ellen would have intervened had she had the strength. But all she could do right now was hold on tight to her little girl, a girl that at not even fifteen had lost her father.

"You know very well how this business goes, Sam! Holidays are always the worst…. I was busy."

"Will is DEAD!" Jo flinched at Sam's angry screaming.

"I know, Sam… I fucking KNOW that!"

"Where were you when he needed you? Busy?" As Dean only shook his head letting that question slide not seeing the need to answer, obviously sick of arguing, Sam snapped. The boy had always been the most peaceful of her kids so she was dumbfounded to see him launch at his brother who stood only a few feet away and strike him hard in the face. Dean hadn't been prepared for this. His head snapped around and he fel,l hitting his chin on the side of his car. There was a loud crunch before he went down. Ellen wasn't sure if the bone had broken from the hit or the bump on the metal exterior of the Impala but as Dean lay on the ground, blood flowing from his mouth and groaning painfully, she knew that his jaw had been broken.

January 24th was a cool morning sporting a clouded sky. It was less than two weeks since William Anthony Harvelle had been buried. Pretty much exactly two weeks since Ellen had brought her oldest kid into the emergency room with blood pouring from his mouth. But more than that it was Dean Winchester's twenty-first birthday. Ellen hadn't thought they'd get to celebrate this day considering that the last birthday Dean had been home had been his eighteenth. The last party he had attended at the Roadhouse being Sam's fourteenth birthday. It was one of the few things she was glad for these days, having her kids home. All of them. She didn't know if she could have gone on after William's death without them.

She had taken it upon herself to be the strong one so all of them could cry when they needed to. Jo did so a lot. Sam sometimes as well. He had also cried when they took Dean to the emergency room. He had never meant to hurt his brother like that, they all knew that, but Sam still beat himself up over it. Would do so probably until Dean's injuries were fully healed or longer. As it was Dean celebrated his twenty-first birthday with his jaw wired shut, his teeth sitting on each other cleanly to make sure everything would grow back together in the right place. It had taken them a week to understand a word of what Dean said as he was unable to open his mouth while speaking but they managed rather well by now.

Dean had not cried other than the pained tears he couldn't hold back while lying groaning in the back of the car on their way to the hospital. But Ellen was pretty sure that Dean felt Sam had been right with what he had said. Otherwise he would not have let his little brother sneak a punch on him like that. Ellen knew Dean's reflexes and bet he could have rolled the punch if he had wanted to. Maybe, just maybe, it was his way of punishing himself for the guilt he felt for not being there when William left for his last job.

Ellen wished it were that easy to lay blame but she knew it was not. Will had misjudged the dangers of the last job and he had paid the highest price.

Though she was sorry Dean had been hurt, she wasn't sorry his injury was keeping him around for a while. Dean might still be closer to a child then an adult, if you asked Ellen, but he often took Jo in his arms when she cried, especially when he saw that Ellen couldn't handle that at the moment. The loss of her husband had brought her kids back together.

As Dean seemed to pour his grief and guilt into the pain he was still in – sometimes it seemed like he took his pain as a righteous punishment –Sam tried to reconcile with his brother.

Her two boys had always shared a room. It was the biggest of the 3 bedrooms for it was the only one that needed to fit two beds, though in the first year the two had lived with them, she would find them sharing a bed more often than not. The room opened towards the back of the bar and Ellen had often admired the ability of the two Winchesters to sleep with the bar's noises only feet away. They had shrugged it off just as they did Ellen's offer to reorganize the storage rooms and maybe make space for a second smaller bedroom when they had grown older.

They didn't mind sharing, had always done so as long as they could remember, and were content using the bar and the private living room and kitchen as a way to take a break from each other. 'At least we're not stuck in one motel room together for days at a time' Dean had once said and Ellen had once more been surprised by the boys' stoical pragmatism. When she had taken them in they had brought one duffle bag that held all their clothes and personal belongings. William had given them the few items that John had had with him as he died: a leather-bound journal, a set of throwing knives and a picture of the Winchester family that had been taken shortly before Mary's passing. It had been worn at the edges, the colour being rubbed away by eager hands but the boys had it framed in their room next to other pictures they had found tucked into the journal.

Later on the little collection had been extended with photos of their stay with the Harvelles. Most of those Ellen had taken herself. Jo sitting on Dean's shoulders with Sam standing in front of them craning his neck and waving at the blond girl. Another one captured them all together, Sam and Dean sitting on barstools with Jo perched on the counter between them while William and herself stood behind the bar leaning up on the counter on each side of their daughter. She could not remember who snapped that shot but it was one of her favorites. There were pictures with their friends as well: Bobby, Caleb, Jim, those close friends of John Winchester's who made it their duty to take an interest in his sons' well-being.

Not one of the photos showed school friends, though. It was one of those things that sometimes made Ellen frown. She knew that both boys had the usual school crushes, a teenage-girlfriend here and there. But they never kept pictures of them, at least not the way they did with their "real life friends" as Dean had called them once. When Ellen had asked him about the label, he only shrugged saying that those people didn't know what they knew and therefore couldn't begin to understand what they were really like. They didn't belong to their real life but to the world of the innocent, naïve people they had to get along with on a daily basis. Ellen knew exactly what he meant but still thought it sad that she did never have to argue with him about whether he could bring a girlfriend home or not.

Sam did it once and would probably have gotten a scalding look or more from his brother if he hadn't he been on his prolonged road trip already. It had been the week of Sam's sixteenth birthday and the bar was closed for a few days due to the need to renovate the floor of the main room, so they were safe from the usual heavily-armed crowd. They had made sure there were no firearms or machetes lying around that morning. The girl, her name long lost to Ellen, had been sweet enough but was slightly irritated by the fact that Sam at his age still had to bunk with his big brother and the fact that said brother had left nearly two years ago but still had a bed and half the room made the frown on her face only increase. The gloomy atmosphere of the Roadhouse was not a girl's picture of the usual family home and Sam had not wanted to bring anyone home with him again.

As soon as Dean had been released from hospital care he moved back into Sam's room. Sam had cleared his brother's half of the room with guilty enthusiasm as he used the bed and the other furniture as extra storage space. Dean had – in a written conversation – expressed that he didn't expect them to have kept his part of the bedroom and was totally fine with bunking wherever they could get him a corner. Sam made it very clear that he would not tolerate Dean to stay anywhere other than with him.

The older brother did not blame Sam for hurting him, he knew it had been an accident, but he had a hard time coping with all the apologies when he could not snap back at Sam to stop it or just accept them and express his understanding for the situation. It was no fun not to be able to open his mouth and he rolled his eyes at Sam quite a bit when he didn't have a notepad to tell him.

Dean always had witty replies ready and there were times when Ellen saw that he itched to say something or comment on whatever they did but had to swallow it down because expressing himself was just too difficult and the snappy remarks just didn't land where they should when mumbled through gritted teeth and swollen tissue. The result was a Dean who was more silent than any of them could remember him and only made use of some select gestures to show his thoughts (half of them were not really suitable to use around smaller children). By now they understood his mumbling rather well but he still hardly spoke, claiming it hurt but they suspected that he just didn't want to sound like some retard (Dean's own words) when he slurred the words until they were hardly intelligible. What hurt most was probably his pride.

This day Ellen got up early to prepare something for Dean's birthday. Normally she'd make the boy's favorite cake (although Dean had a couple of favorites because everything rich and sweet made him the tamest little puppy in town) but this option was out, considering that the birthday-boy was physically unable to bite or chew. The last weeks were the only time that Ellen could recall Dean not seeming to enjoy their shared dinners. He had watched the others eat their food with a gloomy expression while sipping on one kind of liquid nutrition or other. For the day when his wires were pulled and he was allowed to chew again he already ordered a huge steak, but until that time came it was milkshakes instead of birthday cake.

She busied herself with chopping up bananas into pieces then putting them in the blender and getting the whipping cream out if the fridge. Later on she only had to add the bananas to a mixture of milk and chocolate ice cream, topping it with the whipped cream. After a while she heard a door open. Looking over her shoulder she saw Jo shuffle into the kitchen. The girl sat down on a chair silently watching her mother through sleepy eyes. It was a Wednesday and the two youngest of her kids had to leave for school so it was anything but a surprise to see Sam sneak in silently closing the door to the bar behind him signalling them Dean was still asleep. They had a quick breakfast of cereal –just because Dean couldn't chew that didn't mean the rest of them had to live off shakes alone – before Ellen finished up the chocolate-banana shakes while Jo decorated a tray and Sam ignited the candles.

As they walked into the boy's bedroom singing 'Happy Birthday' Ellen thought she saw her oldest startle in surprise at being awoken like that and grab something beneath his pillow. But the moment was over before it began and surprise changed into awe and then into a wide wire-baring grin.

Ellen was worried. She always had reason to worry. Lots of them actually, but she took it in stride since that's what she did. But today her worries were related to family, more exactly: Dean.

Her oldest boy had always been a serious child. When she first met the kid at the age of twelve he was more mature than most college students. It was the price of a life on the road filled with the responsibility of caring for a younger sibling and the worries about an always absent father, doubled with the pain of loosing that father to a life of hunting and being hunted.

Sam had still been too young to be included in the cruelty of the hunt – not that Dean was old enough but it seemed like John Winchester wanted to leave at least one of his children with as much innocence as possible. Lucky Sammy.

But despite all the hardship and the pain Dean had been an amazing child. When he left the Roadhouse he might have been the most silent of the three kids but he was a charmer beyond belief, wrapping women around his little finger like cotton candy and he had had a witty tongue that sometimes caused him more trouble than good.

Now though, he was gloomy. More so than ever before and the kid had always known how to nurture a good depression, even though he usually tried to hide it behind a few inappropriate jokes. Ever since Dean had returned with the horrible news of William's death he had not been himself. But Ellen let it go telling herself that they all took the loss as hard as she did. Maybe she was closing her eyes to something more. Of course Dean was devastated by Will's death, they all were. But he was the one holding it together, lending a shoulder to everyone else and she took it, not asking twice.

He seemed to have taken the passing of his foster father best of the three kids and it was understandable since he was the oldest, hadn't seen them all for over two years and lived a life where death was omnipresent. But now he seemed to be the only one who was not on the mend. It had been nine weeks. They had survived the shock and life slowly started to go back to normal. She had asked Dean to stick around after the wires holding his jaw fixed were finally pulled and he hadn't argued.

Dean was the kid who cherished family most but needed his own freedom more than any of them. It had always been a strange mix.

"Is he brooding again?"

Ellen turned away from the bar where she was leaning, watching Dean as he sat on a corner table, cleaning and reloading an arsenal. Sam stood next to her, watching his brother with a frown. He was soon going to turn seventeen and had already grown to be taller than any of them.

Ellen gave him a sad smile and only shrugged. She watched as the younger Winchester brother straightened himself a bit before he walked across the room, flopping down on a chair next to his brother, grabbing a shotgun.

Maybe, they were going to be okay after all.

Sam managed to distract Dean from his gloominess when he was there but school and homework restricted the time he could spend with his big brother. Dean would go on hunts, but only for a few days, nothing more than a week, knowing that leaving for long periods of time would not go well with a family that just lost a father.

When Dean was there he would help out around the bar in the evenings, so Sam would have more time for his school work, and sit in a corner booth in the after noon reading or searching for a new hunt. Ellen was sure that he knew she was watching him and every once in a while he would look up and their eyes would meet. He was still quiet, more so than usual and his mood seemed worst when he was reading the small leather-bound ledger that Ellen knew was John Winchester's old journal. Dean had added a few pages with his own hunts by now but there was no real reason to read that book over and over again.

Sometimes he wouldn't be reading, just staring at the pages with a frown, eyes not moving left to right like they would if he had been reading for real. Ellen watched him thinking for maybe twenty minutes before she got out two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Sam had taken Jo into town for burgers and a movie that afternoon and Dean had told the girl to finally get herself a real boyfriend, earning a slap on the arm from Jo while Sam told him for the fifth time that he could tag along. Dean claimed that going out with his little siblings was un-cool but none of them seemed to buy that.

She walked to the booth Dean claimed as his own these days and set the glasses down with a click, filling them about a finger's width with amber liquid. Green eyes snapped away from the page they had been glued to. Dean raised an eyebrow questioningly as he saw the woman slip into the seat opposite him. She nudged one glass towards him before taking a sip of her own.

Dean shrugged, grabbing the offered drink and pulling down half of it at once. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Brooding. You looked like you needed a drink."

Dean didn't object, instead taking another sip. He closed the journal and let it rest on the table, settling one hand over it possessively.

"What's been eating you, Dean? You know we are all still trying to deal with the things that happened and it's not easy." Her voice was a little shaky but she managed to keep a hold on her emotions. "Sometimes it's really hard and we all need to cry and rage for a while. Maybe you should just…."

"No." He tipped back the rest of the whiskey and topped it up again from the bottle.

"I have watched you beat yourself up for weeks now and it's enough, Dean. It's not your fault."

"It's not that." He rubbed his eyes wearily and when he looked at her again they were red rimmed but dry. "I mean… yes, I should have been here. Maybe if I hadn't left things would have turned out different."

"No." She sighed blinking tears from her eyes. "We all knew that this could happen and he didn't know this hunt would be so dangerous."

He nodded solemnly into his drink. "I'm sorry, though. I'm sorry I spent two and a half years chasing an invisible enemy around the country. I-."

"What are you talking about, Dean?" She didn't know what he meant but something cold tingled along her spine in dread.

He stared at her for a long time, face blank and lips pressed together in a tight line. She felt a shudder run down her body and couldn't help wondering what in the name of God he could have been up to. Dean wet his lips slowly, swallowing hard and looking at his hands.

"I tried to finish what my dad started. I found some clues in his journal and I…" Green eyes lifted once more to meet hers. "I chased the thing that killed my mom."

Ellen blinked for a moment stunned by the admission of the young man. "You… why didn't you tell us?"

"Because Sam would have wanted to come and he should go to school and do something with his life." The love Dean had for his brother was visible and Ellen could see that Dean wanted Sam to be happy. She knew that part of Dean wished Sam would go hunting with him permanently one day, but Dean wanted Sam to make that decision himself, and for the right reasons rather than family obligation. "At first it was just a wild goose chase but after a long while of working jobs and following leads I found a lead and…."

His jaw clenched and Ellen knew that there was more. "Did you find it?"

"Not yet, but… I'm not going to look any further." He swirled the alcohol in his glass before tipping it back.

Ellen frowned confused and it had nothing to do with the whiskey they were drinking. "What? But if you're that close then why stop now?"

He sighed getting up and standing next to her without looking down. "It's a demon, Ellen, and it's not some pea soup-spitting looser but a really mean bitch. If I hunt it, I will put you all in danger." A calloused hand lay on her shoulder and Dean squeezed lightly. "I lost one family over this, I'm not going to loose you, too. Revenge just isn't worth it."

He walked out in silence and Ellen sat in silence for a few more minutes. She had always thought that Dean was John Winchester's son through and through. Now he had put them over his family's mission. Dean proved to be more of a man than John ever was.


	4. Chapter 4

**2001**

"Three, two, one, go!" The clicking and sliding sound of steel on steel was hardly audible over the shouts of encouragement and the excited whistles of the onlookers. Someone swore like a sailor at the back of the crowd trying to see if his money had been well spent. There was a row of groans and screams of disbelief when a final loud click was followed by a female voice shouting "Done!"

Ellen came out from behind the bar smiling slightly while shaking her head. Jo sat in the middle of the crowd on a table opposite to a man in his early thirties who had shaved his head and wore what looked like a vampire's tooth through a pierced hole in his earlobe. The guy slammed his flat hand onto the table staring at the rifle lying on the wooden surface before him, the magazine detached from it and the slide still loose on the weapon. "Damn it, Missy. How the fuck did you do that?"

Jo gave him a radiant smile and checked and secured her own rifle of the same model with fast and precise hands. "Practice, old man." She plugged the bills from the table and slid them into her bra, grinning. Ellen patted the hunter on his shoulder while the crowd started to disperse with awed mutters. She would prefer her sixteen year old daughter to not polish up the content of her wallet by betting with customers and even more so not to put the money in places said customers shouldn't even know existed. But then this was maybe the only way Jo would readily help out on the busy nights.

"Looks like I taught you something after all…."

The two Harvelle women looked around as the door was swinging closed behind two young men standing in the middle of the dimly lit bar. Dean was grinning from ear to ear while Sam gave Jo a raised eyebrow and a little smirk. Their clothes were dirty, so were their faces and Ellen had a smile tug at the corners of her mouth as she crossed her arms looking at her boys. "Jo, look what the cat dragged in!"

Jo bounded across the room grinning. "Did you see me? I was great!"

She hugged Sam before scrunching up her nose looking at them. Dean ruffled her hair getting a death glare for it that couldn't singe an amoeba. "You are always great, short stuff."

"If you call me short stuff one more time I might shoot you."

Dean laughed good-naturedly. "But who's gonna show you how to put together a rifle in thirty seconds then?"

"Sam, of course."

"Yeah, as if."

Sam tried to smack Dean over the head but his hand was dodged easily by a chuckling big brother. "Of course I wouldn't show her that stuff. You taught her more than any girl her age will ever need anyway."

"Hey!" Jo's protests were completely ignored.

"You just didn't keep up with your training and are afraid of making a fool of yourself, that's all!" Dean looked at his little brother challengingly.

"Just because I do learn things other than hunters' stuff doesn't mean that I am not able to hold myself out there, Dean. Maybe you should have taken more care of your own schooling and a little less of this whole G.I. Joe thing you got going…."

"Excuse me? Just because I wasn't such a suck-up geek like you are. I did have A's as well."

"Yeah, in geography."

"Yeah. And?" Dean put his hands on his hips looking at Sam.

"The only reason you were good in geography was because by the time you were twelve you had seen every state of this country but Hawaii." Sam was probably right about that one.

"It's called learning by doing." Dean shrugged not seeing his brother's point.

"Boys." Ellen decided it was time to get them off the bickering – something they were excelling in any day of the week - and back on the road. "Will you tell us why you look like a couple of bums?"

The brothers looked at each other and then down at their own bodies, pulling faces as though they just now registered that they reeked. Sam looked at them apologetically while Dean shrugged off his leather jacket sniffing it with a disgusted look on his face. "We had to go through the sewers for about four hours. But we got them, killed them and made a little BBQ at their nest. So there will be no little baby monsters slipping from slimy little eggs anymore."

Jo scrunched her nose once again. "If this is the smell of victory then I don't wanna know the stench of defeat."

"Which is why we are headed for the showers now…." They already started to shuffle away towards their room when Ellen remembered something very important. She had tried to keep it off her mind until the boys returned.

"Wait!" They turned around looking at her. "Sam, you got mail." She hurried behind the counter and pulled a big envelope from beneath a bigger stack of papers. She handed it to the younger man who looked at it with a puzzled face before he blanched and swallowed slowly.

"Oh shit."

"What is it?" Dean looked at the envelope reading the sender's information but Sam jerked it away before he could finish and ripped it open with determination.

He read though the letter that lay on top of the wad of papers that accompanied it. As he looked up his expression was unreadable. "I got accepted with a full scholarship…." Ellen looked at him for a moment, stunned. "I'm going to Stanford."

A high pitched squeal had Jo jump the tall teenager within a second. She had forgotten all about the sewer stench, hugging him like she wanted to choke him within an inch of his life. Ellen smiled as brightly as she hadn't in a long time until she noticed Dean's neutral face as he stood behind the taller young man, seemingly still taking in the news. She knew that Dean had hoped Sam would join him in the hunter's business. But she was glad that the younger Winchester brother had decided to break the tradition. It was what she wished for Jo as well. She saw the disappointment cross Dean's face for a second until their eyes locked for a moment. Then the man took a slow deep breath and finally his face split in a smile. Maybe not the biggest smile she had ever seen on him, but good enough for now. After Jo finally let Sam go and he set her down again Dean stepped up to clap him on the back maybe a little harder then absolutely necessary.

"Well done, little brother." He hugged him shortly and smacked his shoulder once more.

Ellen took the chance to hug him herself smiling broadly and cupping his face in her hands. "You deserve it, Sam. We're very proud of you."

She had hoped that things would turn out this way. Sam was actually the most logical choice for a scholarship. He was a straight-A student, did a lot of extra curricular activities in the last years (after reading up on scholarships and finding out that they were required) and to top that he was an orphaned boy living with a widowed foster mother who by the last financial check-ups could hardly manage to bring a kid through college although Ellen was sure they'd have found a way. Dean once said that if Sam really wanted to go to college he could shuffle around some of his (fake) credit card accounts although she hoped that was just a joke. Knowing Dean it was not.

Anyway, a smart kid like Sam was always a good card to bet on. But a smart orphaned kid like Sam was also speaking directly to people's hearts. His charm during the interviews had helped too of course.

**2002**

"Why NOT?" Ellen knew exactly what kind of a fit her daughter could throw when she did not get her way. The girl sounded anything but happy and Ellen pondered leaving the storage room to assist the poor soul that was feeling her wrath.

"Because you're seventeen, Jo!"

"Yes! I'm seventeen and I know for a fact that Dad took you hunting at sixteen.."

Ellen frowned, setting down the box she had been shifting.

"That was different."

There was a huffing sound and Ellen could picture her little girl's stubborn face and the crossed arms. "How so?"

"It was necessary. Going on his own would have been stupid." Ellen had to blink back a rush of tears, hearing a small touch of gravel in Dean's voice. She knew where that came from. The boy – no, man by now – still felt guilty about not being there when her husband left for the job that cost his life.

"And going on your own isn't?"

"I'm not. I called Sam. He's coming with me. I'll pick him up when I leave here."

"Doesn't he have school?"

"Not on a weekend."

"Do you really think Stanford appreciates its students cruising the states on the weekend?"

"What are they supposed to do?"

"I dunno, but it could get him into trouble!" Ellen smiled slightly. Jo was grasping at straws now.

"Sam's an excellent student, they won't mind if he misses a few classes from time to time."

"Well, he wouldn't have to if you took me along!"

"No, Jo. Besides, I already let you come along on the last two salt and burns."

Jo laughed, but it wasn't amused. "Yeah and I never even saw a ghost. You know, interrogating nosy neighbors and watching you dig up some stinking corpse is really not the hunt I had in mind."

"But that's a huge part of this business. So if you find it that awful I suggest you suck it up and do your homework instead."

"Fuck homework!" Ellen knew she should burst in and reprimand her daughter about behavior and her work ethic at once, but she was too interested in listening to her kids.

"Jo. This is my last word."

"Why did you even teach me this stuff if you won't let me use it?"

"Because you need to be able to protect yourself and your mom!" Ellen wanted to protest that point. "Your dad was a hunter. Your bar is swarmed with hunters. I am a hunter. There are dozens, maybe hundreds of evil sons of bitches out there wishing to tear you to shreds or worse. You need to be sharp and you need to be able to handle yourself. What if I'm not there when something happens? Sam isn't around anymore. What if something comes to get its revenge and I get killed before it comes for you?"

Ellen closed her eyes trying to shut out the images that flooded her mind. She heard a quick, shaking intake of breath. Jo was obviously as shocked by that idea as Ellen was. Of course she was aware that there was a possibility for this. But she'd never say it out loud.

"Don't talk like that."

"Jo. I was raised for this. When I came here, I was already a hunter, twelve years old or twenty, didn't matter. I know it'll kill me one day, hopefully it'll be far in the future, but it will happen. Like my dad died and Will did. Do you really think I want that for you or for Sam? My baby brother knows how to handle himself and I need his help from time to time but in the end he will be a lawyer and he will be free of this, even if it kills me. Sam will have a REAL life! Do you know why Will took me along when I was sixteen? Because he knew I was as ready as I'd ever be and, hell, I wasn't his son. He might have been like a father to me but in the end we weren't blood. He'd never have taken you along. You could have been sixteen or thirty, you'd still be your daddy's little girl."

Ellen clamped a hand over her mouth to mute the sob that tore through her chest. It was cruel what Dean said but it was true. Of course Will had loved the boys as much as anything. But he'd also seen where they came from. Will knew that Dean was a born hunter and he used it for all of their sakes, deciding early on that there had to be someone to keep on hunting even if he got old, so the rest of them could keep their lives. After John Winchester's preparations Dean had been the most logical choice. The boy had practically begged for it, too.

"Besides Ellen would kill me if I ever took you anywhere dangerous and a werewolf is very dangerous, Jo."

There was a long silence and Ellen knew that Jo resigned. After a long moment, her voice sounded again, calm and somehow a little sad. "Why don't you even call her mom?"

"What?"

Ellen frowned, stunned by her daughter's sudden change of subject.

"Why do you always call her Ellen or 'your mom'? How long have you been here now, Dean?"

"Eleven – Eleven years, five months and twenty seven days."

Ellen smiled. It was just like Dean to keep count.

"That's a long time of being my badass big brother."

"I guess."

"A long time for being part of this family… half your life right? So why don't you EVER call her mom?"

"It's complicated, Jo." Dean's voice was but a whisper.

"No. I don't think so. You said it yourself. We're not blood. You don't want to be part of this family." Jo sounded angry and the shuffling of feet indicated that she had moved, but a second, heavier set of footsteps followed and they both stopped quickly.

"That's not true." Dean drew a long breath. "I- I do think of you as family but I could never call Ellen that. It's not because she's not like a mother to me. It's- I had a mom…. And she died a horrible, freakish death. I was there. I felt the heat and I smelled the smoke after I was wakened by her scream – and my dad's that followed. I loved my mom more than anything. I was still half a baby and to me she was perfect. When she burned on that ceiling, the perfection was torn. To me 'mom' means loss. It's what broke my family, my dad. Whenever my dad would talk about her - which was pretty much never – he would have that incredible hurt in his eyes, that longing. Just like Sam did, still does. He doesn't even remember her but when he thinks about her all I see is the longing that he has. My mom – her death – is what started the nightmare that was my childhood. Damn, I sound like some whiny chick. I mean, I loved my dad and I would do everything for Sam, but what we had was not a life. It was survival in its most primal form and it was lonely and it hurt. So to me 'mom' is something I could never enjoy myself saying to somebody I really care about since it just hurts too much." There was a long silence and a low sniff. Ellen was crying, for her little boy's hurt – all the pain that was still backed up inside him – and for herself to have such an amazing kid given into her care. She couldn't help opening the storage room door silently.

Dean stood in the middle of the room, his hand wiping at frustrated tears. Jo cried as well, her arms slung around her middle in a self-protective way. The girls gaze was set on Dean and it held compassion and incredulity, pain and love.

"Are you happy now?" Dean's voice was streaked with the tears he had just cried, colored with anger for having shown any weakness.

He finally lifted his gaze and saw Ellen standing in the door. Understanding and horror flashed across his face as he saw her expression and he turned, walking out the door. "I need some air."

**2004**

"How's your brother doing?" Ellen was washing glasses with the phone on speaker and her daughter eavesdropping from the other side of the counter.

"He's asleep in my bed high on Tylenol and grumpy as ever." Sam sounded tired but a little relieved and Ellen knew that feeling. "The doctors said he'll be fine. His left arm and a few ribs are broken but nothing that some forced bed rest can't cure."

"Should I come and get him?" Usually Dean would recuperate at the Roadhouse from any hunting injuries but the hospital had called Sam as his closest relative and it was only three hours from Stanford so Sam had hitched a ride there himself and brought Dean and the Impala back to his place.

"No. I don't mind." Sam didn't tell her that he had missed his brother while studying in California but she knew he did nonetheless. Dean might swing by twice a year when he was traveling through but other than that they only ever met at the Roadhouse for Christmas or other special occasions. It was a big change from sharing a room for pretty much their whole life.

She smiled at the thought that Sam was even willing to cope with a grumpy, hurt Dean just to spend some time together again.

"Won't Jessica ask questions why your banged-up brother is suddenly crashing with you?" Jessica was Sam's girlfriend, the first one that they all knew was really serious. The girl seemed lovely from what Ellen had been told and Sam was quite smitten with her. But she didn't know what they knew.

"I'll just tell her he got hit by a car. I think that will go over better than the truth." The lie came out of Sam's mouth without much hesitation and Ellen had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, she knew that it was safer this way but if Sam really loved this girl then it wasn't good to lie to her so easily.

"Yes, that sounds reasonable." She dried the last glass and picked up the phone once more. "Call us when his bitching is driving you nuts or if you need anything, okay?"

"Sure thing, mom. I'll call you soon." It seemed to slip off his lips without active thought and Ellen smiled at how close they had grown over the years.

"Take good care of your brother."

"He really loves that girl." Dean said that with a small frown marring his handsome features as he started into his beer. "She's nice, too… and hot."

For a moment Ellen wondered if Dean was jealous of his brother for having a hot girlfriend or if he was jealous of Jessica. For the first years of their lives they had only each other and even when they became part of this family, they were still always Sam and Dean, sharing a room even if Dean wasn't there. Now there were Sam and Jessica and Ellen didn't know how well Dean was taking the whole thing.

"Did she suspect anything?"

"No", Dean answered without hesitation, cracking his neck as he rolled his stiff shoulders. "She thinks he's just a nice guy with a sad story and a handsome big brother."

The wink was fake as hell and meant to lighten the mood and Ellen laughed at Dean's antics. "So they are serious?"

"Yeah. Seems so." Dean sighed, sipping his beer.

"So when will she meet the family then?" Ellen smirked at her oldest as Dean's eyes grew a little wide.

"Don't you think inviting her over for Thanksgiving or something would scare her off? But maybe that's what you're going for…."

With a huff Ellen smacked the back of the young man's head. "Stop mouthing off, Dean! We can be normal when we want to be."

"We can?"

**2005**

Ellen would never admit it but she had a good heart. Maybe that's why she didn't just adopt two stray boys but also found herself with an MIT drop-out living in a trailer in the backyard. She couldn't really tell you how Ash ended up there, but besides his terrible sense of style he was a decent guy and Jo liked him well enough. Ellen had hoped her daughter would follow Sam's example and go to college, but after high school graduation Jo stayed at the Roadhouse waiting tables and doing online courses at the community college, trying to figure out what interested her besides the high life of hunting that Dean rigorously refused to let her participate in.

One thing Ellen Harvelle prided herself on being was a good judge of character. She knew that her boys were exceptional and even if they wouldn't show it they had the biggest hearts. She also knew that Jo was mainly afraid of having to face a world where social interaction was more important than how fast one could assemble a gun.

Ellen had met Jessica only once but she knew that the girl adored Sam. She was sweet and had a brilliant smile that grew a little softer whenever she looked at the younger Winchester brother. Ellen had only met her briefly when dropping off some extra things of Sam's over the last semester break. Ellen wanted to invite her for Thanksgiving but Sam called to tell her he would be meeting Jessica's family instead. Dean had been right. They were serious.

So Ellen was not surprised when her younger son – and she dared anyone to challenge the fact that the Winchester boys were her sons by then – called to speak to her about choosing a ring. She nearly sobbed with happiness when Sam, shy and self-conscious as he hadn't been since he was twelve, had told her of his plans. Sam being happy made all the hardships of their lives worthwhile and she couldn't stop the smile that stayed on her face all day. Then the unspeakable happened

"Mom?"

Ellen's grip on the receiver of the phone tightened as she heard Dean's voice scratchy and dangerously low. The fact that he called her 'mom' would have been enough to tell her that something was terribly wrong but her boy sounded terrible to boot.

"Dean? What's going on? I thought you were going to Sam's."

"Yes." There was a long break and Ellen tried to steel herself for whatever was coming because it couldn't be good. "Something happened… at Sam's."

"Is he alright?" She sat up straight a bow at the thought of Sam getting hurt. It wouldn't be the first time even though the boy wasn't as notorious as his brother, but she worried nonetheless.

"Yeah… well, not really but he's not harmed." She could practically see Dean rubbing his eyes with weary hands and waited for him to find the right words. Rushing Dean would only make him stubborn. "Jessica is dead. There was a fire, it… it was exactly like with mom. She was on the ceiling bleeding and I wouldn't believe it but I saw it with my own eyes."

"Oh my god." Ellen sank into a chair by the bar as she felt cold sweep over her like an arctic wind. "Was it…."

"Yes. It has to be the same thing that killed our mom," Dean answered with a voice that was terribly quiet and resigned. Ellen had hoped that with Dean giving up the chase the circle of revenge and death would be broken. Obviously that had been false hope.

"I'm sorry, Ellen, but we have to hunt it down. I'm taking Sam and we're going to find that demon and kill it."

"I understand." Ellen swallowed around the knot in her throat but there was nothing that she could think of saying to stop her boys now. Dean had held the truce and now Sam's girlfriend, the woman he loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life with, was dead. Obviously peace wasn't an option anymore. "When will you come home?"

"We won't."

"Dean…."

"NO." There was no argument just harsh fact and Dean did not falter. "This thing seems to love torturing and killing the women that are close to our family. I will not put you or Jo in danger. We won't come back until this is over."

"Jo won't like that." It was a ridiculous thing to say and Ellen could feel her eyes sting at the imminent loss of her boys.

"If you ever need anything, you can call. But we'll keep our distance for now."

"Tell your brother I'm sorry and that we love him. Stay in touch, okay?" There wasn't anything else worth saying.

"Yeah. We love you too, mom." Dean hung up without any further notice probably as shook up as Ellen herself.

"You got all you need?" When Sam just nodded, Dean squeezed his brother's shoulder and threw him the key to the Impala before heading to the passenger side of his car. "I expect you to treat her with respect and to break every speed limit. Is that understood?"

Sam threw his duffel into the back of the Impala closing the truck with a thud. "C'mon, Dean. We have work to do."

~ END


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